#jk dashwood

[plasticsurgeryworld]

5 characters from your favorite books whose real ages are hard to guess

As we enthusiastically leaf through another book, we vividly imagine the appearance and character of all the heroes of the story. But sometimes film adaptations of literary works turn out to be so memorable that we involuntarily replace the existing image with what was shown to us on the screen. And we unwittingly add extra years to the character or, on the contrary, make him younger.

Severus Snape from "Harry Potter"

Snape once attended Hogwarts with Harry's parents, so when the young wizard first appears at school, the Potions professor is relatively young - only 31 years old. The filmmakers invited Alan Rickman, who was 54 years old at the time of filming, to play the role of this controversial character. Therefore, on screen Severus looks more experienced and sophisticated than he really was.

Ellie from "The Notebook"

In the novel by Nicholas Sparks, at the beginning of the story, the main character, Ellie, is 15 years old. The creators of the film adaptation decided to add a couple of years to her so that the girl would be a little more mature. So they cast Rachel McAdams, who was 24 at the time. Considering that the main events unfold 7 years after the heroes met, such a decision is completely justified.

Elinor Dashwood from "Sense and Sensibility"

In Jane Austen's novel Sense and Sensibility, Elinor's older sister was 19 years old. But in almost all film adaptations the girl was played by older actresses. For example, Emma Thompson was 36 years old at the time filming began. Thanks to this, the creators were able to achieve a more authentic image of the reserved and reasonable Elinor, which the young actress would hardly have been able to create.

Rubeus Hagrid from "Harry Potter"

Hargrid in the film version looks quite young for his age. According to JK Rowling, he was born in 1928, which means that by the time he met Harry he was already 62 years old. Actor Robbie Coltrane, who played this role, was only 50 years old. Perhaps the filmmakers decided that Rubeus aged a little differently than ordinary people, since he was half giant.

Ashley Wilkes from "Gone with the Wind"

At the beginning of the novel, young Scarlett invites her neighbor's son Ashley, with whom she is hopelessly in love, to run away from home and tie the knot. At that time the young man was 21 years old. However, in the film he seems much older, which is not surprising - the actor Leslie Howard, who played this role, was 45 years old. Therefore, the on-screen relationship between Scarlett and Ashley looks ambiguous - a wise man carefully refuses the eccentric girl. The audience gets the feeling that Wilkes was the same age as Rhett Butler, although in fact the difference in the characters' ages was more than 10 years (Rhett was 33 years old).

By the way, the appearance of literary heroes also sometimes changes when transferred to the screen. Some differences are not noticed by the attentive public, while others are simply noticeable.

[scarletlettergay]

People get so offended over ships and for what. Have y'all imprinted on a member and need them vicariously worshipped or something? No and then there's always an ideological enemy too, like one can't live while the other survives. My Ne rebels at the idea that you can dismiss anyone offhand, I guess. Or could be that childlike Fe that wants everyone to get along and play nice.

Also I wonder if anyone's clocked that JK ships be popular because it's the archetypal Mr Darcy fantasy. He's cool and standoffish and a prodigy with a sweet principled side and then you have the beautiful and sparky Jimin /Taehyung. And if you're the opposite shipper you will misrepresent the other to be very Wickham-y, dissolute charming rake with a nefarious agenda, attention-seeking and seeking a good time with the sexy sexy girls.

Kind of amazing how mirrored and symmetrical the narratives are becoming. And yet how each set thinks they're more logical and objective and moral in their hatred.

Such beautiful men. I'm not even straight but just look how much they got the 'IT'.

'Any savage can dance' - JK: 'Isnt that wonderful ? 🥺

[orsimplydreaming]

what if i went out for a walk in the rain and twisted my ankle, but you found me and carried me home and we liked the same poems so we fell in love and you offered me a horse but my sister said i couldn’t keep it so i gave you a lock of my hair instead and then you called me by my first name in public so everyone thought we were engaged but it turned out you were already engaged to someone else so you gave back my lock of hair and i had a full on breakdown that gave me a fever i almost died from but then i got better and married a man twice my age.... haha jk... unless.. ?

[willstilladoreyou]

1. Elevator

True events reimagined.

No elevator Will take you to the top of whatever you think up and down is

I make a pact with myself. “Even if none of them are actually staying at the hotel, I will still have a great time. I am creating a fairytale for myself - for myself for a change”. 

Still, justifying a flagrant expense does not come particularly easy. On the way to the hotel, I triple-check for any evidence of my transparent passion, but it seems like all signs of the concert have been carefully hidden - apart from the mad pumping of adrenaline that’s going through every tiny capillary.

Do I look respectable enough? My suitcase is orange and slightly battered, graced by a space panda sticker; the guitar case is elephantine in comparison to the travel guitar it holds, but my coat is flawless, and my shoes are cool - and those cheekbones tell a tale of elegance even in the weirdest of circumstances.

It’s after midnight, and it’s a quick ride; London gently gleams under a young crescent moon.

As we pull up in front of the gorgeously festive entrance, I notice a familiar figure standing outside - Samuel Bañuelos III, smoking. My heart simultaneously falls and soars. The tour manager is always a good sign.

Get out of the cab, as gracefully as you can (note to self: keep trying) Do I have everything: guitar on one shoulder, a bag on the other and the suitcase. Make your way in Smile calmly, as if it’s all part of a routine Don’t let them know you’re an impostor (note to self: what?!)

Elevator. Historic elevator. Quite an old elevator. A pretty slow elevator. A madame in pearls, waiting. “Oh, coming in late, dear?” “It’s been a long day.” “Well you are sure to get some good rest here.” I wonder if she can tell that I’m in the middle of an adventure of a lifetime. Please keep being polite to me, it makes me feel like I can fake being natural superbly well.

Our chat is interrupted by the sound of voices approaching.

“Hey man, why are you coming in so late?” Samuel Bañuelos III appears, followed by none other than the cause of this entire insane campaign, Mister Josh Adam Klinghoffer. A cool jacket, one of many signature hats, a rectangular guitar case. “…Because of all the fffffffucking people” he mutters, with a tired temper. I allow myself a sly little half-smile in his direction.

Perhaps ‘mutters’ is not the right word here, for the madame immediately turns her head and splashes him with a look of sheer condemnation.

Well I feel like an antelope hiding in the bushes. If anyone looks me in the eye, I will be immediately, hopelessly found out. However, I can’t help but notice (thank you, Nature, for the corners of our eyes) Josh instantly going slightly red (probably cursing himself in his mind). Despite being embarrassed, his eyes wander to my guitar case. I guess curiosity is the best cure for embarrassment.

Finally, the marvelous elevator arrives. Inside there is gorgeous gold, a velvet bench, endless mirrors and enough space for three. Madame embarks. “I’m afraid there isn’t enough space here for us all to be transported comfortably. Good night”. There’s definitely place for me there. She pushes the button to close the doors quicker, but hastily pushes the opposite button and spends another 10 painful seconds avoiding looking at us, her brutal offenders.

Finally, the legendary golden doors conceal the madame as she is solemnly taken up.

I look over my shoulder and cast a quick, warm, understanding smirk at my fellow travelers.

“I’m sorry,” says Samuel Bañuelos III. “I’m not,” say I.

He laughs; Josh gently smiles, looking somewhat relieved. His eyes keep moving between two points in space: my guitar and my face. I notice that Samuel Bañuelos III notices it. Seems like he notices that I notice it, too.

Did I mention this luxurious elevator is…slow? Back in its day, it must have been a technical marvel of immense speed, but in 2016 it reminds us of a more elegant era when the perception of time was drastically different.

As we continue our wait, the tour manager/genius 35mm photographer quietly reminds the guitar player of the details of the next day, which can be summed up thusly: just be at the venue by 5.

Josh lets out a series of short, somewhat absent-minded ‘mmmmhm’s and I can feel both of their eyes on me.

Our ornate mode of transportation comes back to the ground floor and opens its shining doors.

I take a step forward, but my suitcase does not follow my lead: one of the wheels decides to take the night off.

“Let me help you with that,” Josh says in a quiet, sweet baritone. “Thank you so much.” I flash him with one of my best smiles.

I enter the lavish little room of elevation, J follows.

Samuel Bańuelos III does not. He’s standing there, failing to hide his smirk. “Might as well take the stairs, much quicker. I’ll see you tomorrow, man! G’night, miss”.

“See you, good night!” I smile. The doors close.

The insane serendipity of the situation flabbergasts me to the point of numbness. The odds of this happening were less than minuscule - and yet here we are. I am in the same elevator as Josh Klinghoffer. It’s just the two of us. He doesn’t seem to mind. I push 5. He asks for 6.

“Well, you are quite the suitcase tamer.” “It’s -,“ he clears his throat, “- it’s one of the few talents that I have mastered over the years.” Smiles are exchanged.

6 seconds of silence.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice your guitar - do you play?” I can almost see him mentally facepalming himself. “A tiny bit. I’m actually learning how to play bass, and this is the closest thing I have here”.

“Oh, bass, cool! It’s not exactly the same, though…” Beat. “……What do you mean?” It became a signature joke - pretending to be absolutely serious. He falls for it for three seconds, confusion followed by laughter.

“I know it’s pretty ridiculous, but it’s still better than nothing.” A pause, in which he looks at me with a spark in his eye. “I guess so”, he says, smiling and nodding. “I love bass…Are you in a band or - or just learning for yourself?” His voice is melodious and soothing. I notice that I feel oddly comfortable being one-on-one with him. “I am learning to join a band that consists entirely of wonderful friends.” “Wow, sounds excellent!”

Floor 5.

“Thank you so much, it was lov-“ “Oh, I’ll help you with the bags.”

We both step out of the exuberant mechanical wonder. I take a moment to fully look at him. Here he is, right in front of me, guitar case in one hand, my slightly scruffy orange suitcase in the other. “Thank you. It’s wonderful to know that chivalry isn’t dead.” “Oh, my pleasure.” We follow the arrows. Silently. “What - khm - what is the name of the band?” “We’re called The ************,” I say, unable to hide my gleaming pride. I’m in a dream come true, talking about another dream coming true.

“The ************…cool name.” “Thank you, we like it too.”

An exchange of smirks. His eyes are deep brown, with faint glimmers of deep gold. The charm of his smile drastically exceeds my (already high) expectations.

‘What kind of music do you play?” “Well, the official formula goes like this: progressive-aggressive punk post-pop cabaret!” “…..Wow. Well, that definitely got my interest!” I wonder if he sees how insanely happy I am right now. I feel radiant. All of a sudden we are standing outside of room 532.

“Five three two…that would be me,” I say softly, casting a gentle gaze upon him.

“Are y-you staying here for long? Sorry, that’s an inapp-“ “Two nights.” He nods, looking at the floor.

“I’m so sorry, taking up your time, it’s late, and you must be tired - not that you look tired -  I mean, it’s almost 2 AM, and -“ “Please don’t worry! Thank you so much for helping me, I really appreciate it.”

My cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling.

“Besides, it’s you who is truly tired.”

Uh-oh.

He looks at me intently.

“I was”

Pause.

Just as I inhale to continue this dreamlike conversation, Josh mutters good night and leaves pretty abruptly.

I find myself standing in the middle of an empty corridor of a legendary London hotel. Fuck knows what just happened.

I open the door, drag the suitcase into the room, let the guitar slide to the floor, drop the bag and simply freeze, leaning against the door.

Fuck knows what just happened. I just had a fantastic encounter with Josh Klinghoffer… which ended with him running away. Was it because he realized that I follow him? Maybe he got scared of my incredible charm? Perhaps he had to take care of some dark necessities? Fuck knows. Fuck knows. ……fuck knows.

It’s still astonishing, though. It is still mind-blowingly incredible, though. It’s still absolutely bloody crazy fucking fantastic, though.

I put on some music, shuffle at first, but “Eye Opener” comes first and I have no desire to die by melting into this deep blue carpet.

I put on “Love of Your Life,” followed by “Never is a Long Time”. Soothing songs that accumulate that warm feeling of sheer magic. Unpack! Shower! Jump on the bed, celebrating your insane luck! Glee at the marvels of a five-star hotel! Go to bed in your beautiful silk nightgown to feel like a lady! Attempt to sleep and fail miserably!!

I sit up in bed, coming to terms with the fact that sleep seems like the least exciting thing to do right now.

I get up, throw on a black, sheer, floor-length, long-sleeved polka dot dressing gown (thank you, Dita Von Teese), slip into my elegant little slippers, grab a pen, a piece of paper, the door key and head out to wander the exquisite dimly lit corridors.

After all, life is too short to waste it on mediocrity. I dream of living in a Wes Anderson film, and so I create this opportunity for myself!

I slowly make my way through floor five, admiring the early 20th century sketches and caricatures on the walls, occasionally stopping to write down a thought, a line, a poem, a feeling, a spark. My path is deserted, with the exception of a gentleman eating chicken outside of room 502. The attention he gives me is minimal. My ghost-like promenade takes me to the staircase, and I hesitate, deciding whether to go up or make my descent. As I listen closely to my gut, I hear the peaceful wind behind the windows, the light rustling of branches, the mild ticking of a clock standing on a randomly beautiful table by the elevator, the soft humming of the lamps, quiet footsteps…footsteps? Chicken guy coming for seconds? I notice a figure lurking upstairs. A tall, somewhat lanky figure. The pattern of the figure’s movement is hesitant, but after a few pauses, I can hear it advancing towards my location. As the silhouette draws nearer, the floppy hair becomes painfully obvious. He notices me and freezes. Here I am, a sleepless vision, looking at Josh Klinghoffer…yet again.

There he is, in a black long-sleeved top that looks incredibly cozy and pajama pants that can be called ‘slim’ in comparison to his usual stage choices, looking at me.

A few moments pass, and he still hasn’t run away. Either his eyesight is not so good, or he’s not terrified.

He moves one step down. “Hi…” His voice lingers in the air. I take one step up. “…Hi” The night makes my voice deeper. The silence rings in my ears. Or is it the excitement? The adrenaline, perhaps? Does adrenaline ring? Dear brain, Please shut up.

“Can’t sleep?” He hesitates. “Yeah…still not sure which time zone I’m in” Pause. “….and you?” Now it’s my turn to take a dramatic pause. “…The night seemed to poetic to let it pass me by.”

He takes two more steps and murmurs something undecipherable.

“Sorry?” “That is beautiful,” he says, stepping onto the landing between floors. I smile with a slight exhale and stand by a window on the same level as him. I wonder how transparent this dressing gown really is.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run away just now.” His face changes immediately, a grimace of deep discontent followed by an expression of pure downheartedness.

He stares at the floor. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe you’re even talking to me right now. I - I hate the way I am sometimes.I felt as if I overstepped a line and didn’t think of anything better than to flee. Regretted it instantly. Punched a wall. Regretted that instantly. Felt idiotic since then”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that a conversation that I found so pleasant was a source of such agony to you…”

He looks up, comes to the window…stands opposite me. The pale light encompasses us both. We are looking at each other.

How is this not awkward? Magic.

“I never asked you your name.” “You have a chance now.” He smirks and softly shakes his head. “I’m ***. *********.” “Hi, ***” “Hi,” I say, with a secret smile in the corners of my mouth. “And you are?…” We both laugh. He seems wildly relieved. “Josh.” “Well, lovely to meet you, Josh.” I extend my hand. He shakes it with an air of mock-importance. His hands are big, with long, graceful, restless fingers and obvious veins. His handshake is careful yet firm. My handshake is strong and enthusiastic. I celebrate our first physical contact by zapping him with a shot of static electricity. He looks mildly impressed.

“Are you from the States?” “Why do you ask?” “Well…your accent sounds American.” “Yeah…I’m actually *******.” “*******?!” “**!” (yes) “Haha…Your English is superb!” “Thank you! All thanks to my brilliant parents.” “Are they American?” “Nope, my whole family is completely *******, aside from a couple of Jews.” “Ah, haha! So you live in…******?” “I do.” “It’s a beautiful place.” “Thank you! It is as strange as it is beautiful.” “That’s a good way of putting it…” “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.” His eyes become more serious. I hesitate…and dive right in. “I think that you write some of the most beautiful music in the world.” He begins to examine his shoelaces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. But it is true…at least to me.” He finally looks up, his gaze fixated through the window. “Someday I will learn to take compliments calmly…possibly” “That might come in handy one day…” He looks at me and smiles, tucking his hair behind his ears. “***? Can I ask you something?” “I don’t see why not” “It might be a bit of an odd question.” “Those are my absolute favourites.” He pauses for a few moments. “What kind of guitar did you bring here?” I laugh, looking at the ceiling. “It’s a travel guitar. Smaller, lighter, waterproof. Perfect for a campfire evening…but I’m not a big fan of camps.” “Neither am I…but I’d love to take a look at it, haven’t seen one of those in a long, long time…if you wouldn’t mind?” I smile softly. I feel as if a little boy asked me to show him a wonderful toy. “Sure.” “So…you’re here for two nights, right?” “Exactically so…sorry, that’s a quote from Alice in Wonderland.” “Oh, you don’t have to apologize for quoting a great book…I’m sorry for not recognizing it!” I grin, he grins, we both look out of the window. Venus is shining bright, like a lighthouse for dreamers.

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” I hesitate, not believing my ears. THINK OF SOMETHING COOL. “Beginning a wondrous day” Jesus Christ on a motorbike that sounds pretentious as fuck. “Would joining me for breakfast spoil the wondrous day?” “On the contrary, it would make a wondrous day exceptionally fantastic.” He looks mildly shocked and stays silent for a pretty damn long time, paying much attention to his hair. Classic ***: scaring people away with wild enthusiasm since 1991 (c) Well, no point in backing off now! “…Shall we meet…downstairs?” He clears his throat yet again, fiddling the bleached strands of his infamous hairdo. “Actually I was wondering if I could pick you up at, let’s say”, - he checks his simple, elegant, clearly trusted and well-worn black-strapped watch, - “10 o’clock?” “Sounds perfect…I am flattered!” He smiles with a slight air of inhibition. “Believe me,” he says. “I’m the one who is flattered.” We look at each other, unashamedly smiling. I’m the one who breaks the spell. “See you in six and a half hours, then.” His smile becomes wider. To say that he is charming is to say absolutely nothing at all. “Sweet dreams.” “You too…good night.” We hesitate, look at each other and laugh. “Bye!” I start descending. At the bottom of the stairs, I turn around and see him still standing there, watching me. “See you soon…”

You can't concede that you have no control But if your eyes are open, your heart is open, your life is open wide

2.02.2017

[beks21]

OMG TAGSSSSSSSS AND FRIENDSHIPS YAY! Thanks for the tag, @elanev91

Name: Beks {shocker}

Age: 28

Star Sign: Capricorn {had to look it up....again}

5 Things That Make You Happy: Harry Potter, making friends, excellent books/audiobooks, painted toenails, a freshly bleached sink {please see my age above and then add about 50 years because hello I am a grandma, my god}

2 Pet Peeves: JUST TWO!? Shit I have so many pet peeves #Slytherin. Probably the biggest two are slow drivers in the left lane {okay let’s be honest, most of my pet peeves involve driving} and grammatical errors, specifically when a homonym is used instead of the correct word.

Favorite Book: okay we’re gonna have to break this down by genre, because THERE ARE TOO MANY GOOD BOOKS IN THIS WORLD {actually there are never enough, but my bookshelf disagrees}. Here’s just the straight-up list of my {current} favorite books: Harry Potter, Persuasion, Eleanor & Park, A Court of Mist and Fury, The Hate U Give, The Hating Game, The Sun is Also a Star.

Favorite Movie: Oh gosh....the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice and the 1995 version of Sense and Sensibility. I can watch those anytime, any place, over and over. And I’ll cry every time. 

Glass Half Empty or Glass Half Full: Empty but because I’m an optimist? Like, “shit, this glass is only half empty, that’s awesome!” 

Any pets: planning on getting a dog as soon as I can afford a yard. In the meantime, I keep my sister alive {jk jk she’s a brown belt and can take care of herself}

Introvert/Extrovert/Ambivert: Extroverrrrrrt my god I’m so extroverted. BUT I just learned/re-learned that while I can stand being alone for a while, I HATE HATE HATE being alone while surrounded by strangers. PLEASE BE MY FRIEND. 

Character You Relate To: Anne Elliott, Elinor Dashwood, and clueless AF Harry Potter

Main Fandoms You’re Part Of: Harry Potter. I follow some of the Sarah J Maas fandoms, but I participate in only HP. 

Tagging @callieskye and @petalstofish and @professor-riddikulus and @jinxxxed

[thecreepiestguyinthesky]

Thanks @never-is-a-long-time for tagging me I tag @howisyourprocess @someday-ill-do-you-a-favour @ntasja @ghostcookie0114 @starry-eyed-adolescence if you wanna do it/haven't already :)

[samanthasbarkss]

What's your favorite book?

It really changes, Harry Potter is such a good series so it could be one of those. There is comfort in that world that JK Rowling created, and some of the words and quotes just really speak to me. Specially when you realise how real many of the characters are. I had a teacher who was like Remus Lupin; so kind, considerate and supportive. But I have also had a ‘teacher’ like Umbridge who almost ruined my life. But I have had more teachers like Lupin and that is good. And despite it being set in a magical world I can relate more to it than things like Glee, John Green books or Jane Austen. ANd I love Jane Austen books, they have a sort of endurance, and Elinor Dashwood is one of my favourite characters, mostly because I am nothing like her. And John Green books are good too,  though I found that the Fault in OUr Stars was a real stand out and others have not really been able to match up.

So I think on some level its either the 4th and 5th Harry Potter books as it has some of the most amazing moments in there. But all Harry Potter books are strong contenders. I also really like the Help, though i ended up preferring the book to the film. Celia was way more badass in the book. SHe beats a guy up to protect Minny.

And I also like Les Miserables, Crime and Punishment, and the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I also like this book called I, Eliza Hamilton, which of course is about Elizabeth Schuyler-Hamilton. I have to check the publishing date but I think it was heavily inspired by the musical judging by the amount of musical quotes in there.

Also just a side note: I was hungry, was about to eat my chicken wings left over from lunch my cat came in so i pulled all the chicken off and gave all the chicken to her instead. Now I am eating chicken wing flavoured crisps. They are good.

[alexandrainchains]

OMG, Josh actually answered my question, lol.